Satin Boys
by Houseketeer
Summary: Cameron runs into House and Wilson at a bar she’s going home with one of them.  HouseCameron, smut.


**Satin Boys**

Cocktail in hand, Cameron makes her way through the dim, crowded bar.

Things didn't "work out" with Chase; however, she's learned she doesn't want to return to an empty bed each night. So, although she's not sure she likes herself for it, she's on the prowl. Unfortunately it's becoming obvious this won't be as easy as she'd hoped.

In twenty three minutes, Cameron has been offered a drink by six men and one woman, all of whom were either overtly sleazy, looking for a wife, currently married, or charming yet female. No joy.

Cameron is wearing her sexiest panties and her sexiest satin top with no bra. She is holding a sexy drink (white cosmo) and hearing sexy music (Goldfrapp). She is primed, and ready, and exceedingly disappointed that she's about to go home alone. But there's no damn point in staying.

She passes a table with two likely suspects and her mood brightens. Then she does a double take—damn—it's House and Wilson. No joy. 

Still, she approaches them because it's better than simply leaving. "What are you guys doing here?"

Wilson yells over the music, "We're celebrating!"

She pulls out a chair at the round table and joins them. "What are you celebrating?"

Wilson is busy throwing back half a beer. House answers in a subdued tone, "Jimmy's managed to end a relationship in a manner _other_ than divorce."

Now it's starting to make more sense. Judging by the empty glasses, Wilson is on his fifth beer, while House is nursing his first drink. House wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this; he drinks scotch, at home, alone. Wilson has dumped or been dumped, and House is here to baby-sit.

A waitress appears and Wilson orders two more beers and two more cosmos. House stops him ordering another scotch with a wave.

Cameron nods to Wilson, "I'm sorry."

He's full of false cheerfulness and drink. "No! This is great. She was no damn good for me. She was too..."

"She was a soul-sucking, ring-hungry bitch intent to walk away with half of everything you own," House finished.

"Right." Wilson swigs his beer. "Right."

"Well, congratulations then?" she asks.

"Thank you!" Wilson lifts his glass up, and she clinks hers against it.

"Where's your boy-toy?" House's tone shows his distain, and she feels the need to strike back.

"I wasn't able to obtain one at this venue," she snaps.

House raises an eyebrow. "You and Chase...?"

"No," she returns flatly.

There is an awkward pause. "Excuse me, restroom." He leaves her with Wilson.

"You look nice," he says, but it drowns in the music.

"What?"

He raises his voice, a little too loud now, and alcohol selects a more honest adjective. "You look hot!"

"Oh, thanks."

He adds, "I'm glad you're here," as his hand settles on her wrist. Goosebumps spring up on her arms, and she feels her nipples harden. He wants her, and it's incredibly erotic to be wanted. While he drinks his beer, she ponders whether he could suit her purpose. 

He's attractive, unmarried, not looking to marry, not sleazy, not female, and the first person to meet those criteria tonight. She can feel herself getting wet at the thought of having him, but it's all wrong. What's sexy about him is how close it would be to being with House. Her eyes close and she can see herself fucking him, calling another name. He suits her purpose too well; she won't do that to him.

She gives him a look, the one every pretty girl has perfected that says, '_I wish I could but I can't, it's not you; you're lovely, I just...No thank you_.'

He withdraws his hand; smiles a chagrined smile. "What is it about him?"

She blushes scarlet. Even when he's trashed he knows everything she's thinking. "He's my..." She trails off. "You don't understand."

Wilson again drains a glass. "I might."

Now they both look up startled when House pulls his chair out. "So Cameron, you driving him home?"

"I...I took a taxi."

"Then I'll take you both." He heads for the door.

Wilson struggles to his feet like a newborn deer, so Cameron wraps his arm around her shoulders and stabilizes him as they follow House into the cool night air. She helps Wilson into the backseat, then sits beside him. House silently takes the wheel and drives the short distance to Wilson's. He heaves himself from the car. "Goodnight, thanks guys."

House watches Wilson start to trudge up his sidewalk, then turns in his seat to look at her. "I thought you were…" House vaguely gestures at Wilson.

She sighs; realizes. "You left us alone on purpose." He doesn't answer, but the silence is telling. She'd said she wasn't with Chase, and he'd known exactly what Wilson would do at that moment alone with Cameron. "Is that what you want?"

He was silent for a moment, jaw set, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white. "No, it's not what I want."

"Well what do you want House? The way you're treating me lately—punishing me for Chase. You have no right to do that. I can't just…I'm not going to just wait."

"Well what am I supposed to do! Before I even find out you're done with Chase, you're at a rave in your fuck-me outfit trolling for losers."

"I wasn't trolling for—wait, what?"

"What am I supposed to do," he repeated more gently.

Her heart is pounding in her chest; she's wet and aching between her legs. She almost can't believe what she's hearing. "Well, you could give me some indication that you want me."

"I want you."

She looks over at him in disbelief, but he seems more serious than she's ever seen him. "You want me," she repeats.

"Well I fucking love you!" He sounds frustrated, upset.

There is a zipping sound as Cameron's seatbelt suddenly retracts. He gapes as she grabs hold of the front seats and scrambles between them. The heel of her shoe catches on the seat, but she pushes through, almost overbalancing. Now she kneels on the passenger seat and takes his stubbled cheeks in her hands, and tips his face up to hers as she presses a kiss against his lips; brushes her tongue against his. "I love you too."

"Well what do we do now," he growls. 

"Shame if we let the fuck-me outfit go to waste."

"That's not what I meant—" Suddenly he looks at her, as if he's only now really seeing her, as if the fact they may sleep together tonight has only just occurred to him. "Work…"

"We're adults. It'll work itself out."

He shakes his head. "Didn't work itself out with Chase."

"I didn't love Chase." House's eyes dart from side to side, as if he's grasping for an objection. "House," she says firmly, "It'll work itself out."

His hands reach out and envelop her, the silk of her top glides against her skin as he pulls her into a greedy kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he slides her tongue into her mouth. His hands are everywhere—in her hair, on her legs, slipping under her top. When she finds she's grinding the crotch of her jeans against his palm, she pulls back from the kiss. "House, we need to do this somewhere else," she says as she settles to sit beside him and fastens her seatbelt.

"Right, right." He puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb. 

oOoOo

The second they're inside the door they are touching; desperately groping. After three years of waiting, they have no patience for buttons or zippers. Cameron pulls House's button-down and tee over his head together, and the buttoned cuffs catch on his wrists until he steps on the shirts and wrenches mightily to free himself from the sleeves. He barely manages to kick off the shoes before she can similarly trap his ankles with his jeans. Now that he is standing naked before her, she steps back a bit and crosses her arms; pulls her top over her head and watches his reaction with a huge smile. "Lose the pants," he groans.

"No time." Topless, she sinks to her knees and takes the tip of his erection between her lips. She strokes him while she sucks his head into her mouth over and over. He is pressed against his front door, and it's so good his fist repeatedly punches the wood. Too good. He wraps his hand behind her neck and urges her to her feet.

"I have to have you. _Now_." He takes her into his arms and passionately kisses her as he shuffles her backward toward the couch. He pushes her over the arm, and she lands on her back. With a playful smile she undoes the fly of her jeans and shoves them over her hips. He pulls off first her do-me pumps and then the sexy little jeans. Her panties he pulls only down to midcalf, then he insinuates himself between her legs. He slides over the cool leather to rest between her thighs; her legs are locked around him by the straining black lingerie. He presses himself against her slick entrance and forces into her. She's so tight. His abs tighten at the sound she makes as she spreads her knees farther and takes swallows him even deeper. He's momentarily rapt by how gorgeous she is, how erotic it is that she wants him.

"House, fuck me."

His arms curl under her and his large fingers squeeze her shoulders. He slams into her hard and fast, ignoring his complaining thigh. He presses his cheek against hers. She feels his hot breath at her ear and hears his gravely whisper, "I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you."

"Oh my god, House," she breathes. For so long, _all_ she's wanted was for him to want her. Being desired by him, taken by him, is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Her heels dig into his ass. "More."

He could not possibly fuck her harder, so he assumes she wants to _hear_ more. In this moment, getting her off is far more important than his pride; he would tell her anything. "I fantasize about you constantly," he pants. "Every day."

"Shit!" She throws her head back. "I'm going to come _so hard_. More, more."

"I can't remember the last time I came without saying your name," he groans.

"Oh, god, yeah," she screams. As she shudders in climax, she pulls his face to hers and sucks his lower lip into her mouth, flicks his tongue with hers urgently. At this distraction he slows his thrusts, but she objects with her body, forcing her hips off the couch faster, demanding more.

He kisses and sucks at her neck, every touch between them is fast and hard and hungry. Their skin is flushed red and damp with effort, and each time stroke provokes a sexy smacking sound when their slick skin meets.

Cameron's eyes are closed and she can't think. Every breath feels like an orgasm, every move he makes she's shocked that she can be further aroused. That he's finally with her, that he loves her, that he's hers—it's beyond dreaming. Her fingernails leave eight red tracks in his muscular back and he yells; it's more than she can take. She comes again, senselessly babbling, "Fuck me fuck me fuck me," again and again. House shoves deep inside her and spurts hot come as she squeezes his cock.

He rolls to the side and they cling together on the couch, panting, limbs tangled. He can feel her against his thigh, throbbing and hot, slick as satin. "I can't believe I almost let you do that to _him_."

She smirks. "Yeah, you're an idiot."

He presses a kiss behind her ear and mumbles, "Your idiot."

FIN


End file.
